Bang Bang
by spazmoid
Summary: One moment, he was just a drunk bastard who did not know how to feel correctly, and the next he was this monster even he did not recognise when he woke from the trance. He was afraid. He was always so afraid.


Flippy did not know why he was there, or at least he knew and did not want to be. The amount of people in one place made him irritated and the loud music gave him a headache. He would do anything to get out of the mess he had put himself in. He knew their arguements were usually, if not always, his fault, and that they always, always ended in her walking away.

Flippy really did care about her, Flaky, although. He just had never been too sure of how to act on it, how to show it. They always ended up fighting. Flaky was too soft. He was too insensitive and violent. Over and over again until Flippy could feel her slipping away. She had been packing her bags that afternoon when he had went back to his apartment, announcing she was tired and moving in with her friend Petunia. Flippy had not even known the two were friends.

Before he could have even process that little fact, Flaky had gathered up her things and ran out the door to an awaiting car. Flippy had called after her only to find she ignored him and turnt up the radio just to block him out. He had sworn he could see tears in her eyes when the car turnt the corner.

Flippy reminisced it all a bit bitterly, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand. He had came here to apologise, not to dwell on memories that just made him more upset than he already was. He tossed the partially empty bottle into the bushes, the anger at the situation seeping through and building fast. This was what Flaky had been talking about, his uncontrolable temper and the rages. (Oh the rages. He was not toohandsome, prettyugly when he got angry.)

He really did not think it was a good idea to see her now. He had to admit he might have been just a bit tipsy. That bottle had been his second, and it was geting to him despite his strong ability to hold his liquor. (Or was that Flipqy? It was really hard to distill the reality he lived in from the one in his head as the alcohol blurred the line between the two. )

Flippy stumbled when he pushed himself from the wall and nearly crashed into a blond boy he barely recognised as he managed to somehow find himself into the party. The blaring music beat into his head, and the people seemed to just be obstacles in his way as he kept going. He was drunker than he had thought he was. He could hardly distill one person from another, or even what he was drinking when he picked up a forgotten plastic cup. All he knew was that whatever it was burnt down his throat and left him tingling as he continued on in his search.

(What was he searching for again?)

Memory was sketchy now, blurred like the people he passed and the double images that surrounded him. Flippy tried to think harder, what he was doing, had been doing, where he was, but to no avail. Thinking only made his head hurt, and now he could only think of leaving there, leaving here. He had to find a way out.

The longer he stood the more the anxiety began to grow. This was why he tried his best to avoid drinking. It only made things worse. He already had enough problems, and being drunk did not help soothe any of them.

Crash.

Flippy tripped into a door that easily swung open to reveal a bedroom. There was a too colourful bed in a too colourful room that made the tints and shades swirl to a not so monochromatic rainbow. He crawled onto the carpet and found himself vomitting on the floor behind a wooden bureau. He wiped his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. He would have grimaced if he had been in a better mindframe, but right now he could only think of the nausea in the back of throat.

Then all at once his memory came back, and Flaky's visage filled his mind. It had been the face of giving up, and now there was that gasping feeling. It was so familiar to him, he simply just melted into it. The sky was melting into liquid, and the sounds of guns only he could hear plagued his mind until he began to sob and scream into his knees. No one could hear him above the music that blasted loudly from the livingroom.

He could feel himself fading, and the whispering voice of what he feared the most. One moment, he was just a drunk bastard who did not know how to feel correctly, and the next he was this monster even he did not recognise when he woke from the trance. He was afraid. He was always so afraid. He tried to stop it, but now his nails barely scratched the walls of his own conscience as he felt himself slipping away. Farther and farther down he fell, and then the laughter heard but not seen, as if he was floating just above the image of the not-him that was now in his place.

Flipqy had turnt his sobbing into hysterical laughs as he stood and that insane cheshire grin contorted his countenance. The pupils of his eyes shrunk in lightened yellow irises, and the boy kept laughing as he grabbed a lampshade from the table and smashed it against the wall. Flippy was crying again, and Flipqy was yelling at him to just shut the fuck up and go to sleep. He was picking up the glass shards and settled on a rather large piece, not caring that the edges of which were digging into his now bleeding palm.

The blood was an alien thing to Flipqy. Pain was not something he could not fathom past the adrenaline pumping through him. He was fueled by a childlike cruelty to kill and destroy a world he took to be dirty, filthy, repungent. He was not evil, just someone who saw the world as black and wanted to paint it red before it fell apart into white.

All he had to do now was wait. Wait for the redheaded girl who somehow found herself to the bedroom with an indigo-haired girl. Wait for her to be surprised as the door closed, and saw his wild eyes. The scream right before the knife plunged into the friend's chest, and her gasping breath as her hands wildly clawed at his arms. The blood bubbling from her mouth and painting her lips in a bright red lipstick that dribbled down her chin and to her violet tank top. The redhead was screaming now, just as loud as Flippy hand been such a short time before. Flipqy went to shut her up, dropping the now limp girl from his arm.

The girl pressed into a wall, and her eyes grew wide with fright. Big brown innocent doe eyes that seemed too clean in Flipqy's eyes, too clear in Flipqy's eyes, too lying bitch in his eyes. She had left him, and it was only when her tears began to fall did Flippy come in and remember her name and the crying face and everything. He remembered everything, and the broken shard shook in his hand before clattering on the floor.

His body shook as Flippy woke up, and took it in again. Flaky was already gone and out the door, probably to get an ambulance. Or the police. Flippy really did not know. Sobriety had wormed its way into him as he took in the blood he was sitting in and the blood running down his arm that mixed with it to stain his clothes. He brought a hand up to his face and smeared the red on his face to intermix with his tears as he cried.

He hardly noticed the footsteps of baby blue converse that tiptoed through the blood to his trembling frame. He only noticed the hand on his shoulder that forced him to whip his head around in terror and scramble away from the intruder on his personal hell. This life he was living was his personal hell. He wanted it to stop, his fingers clenching into the carpet as wide green eyes stared up and met blue hazel right before fingers went from carpet to a glass shard and went for his abodomen.

He screamed as the other wrestled it away from him right before it pierced through his clothes and to his skin. He screamed as the arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace and held his arms to his sides. He was encased by the familiar self-made hero who always saved someone even if they did not care to be saved.

"Please...," the sobs that scratched from Flippy's throat as he reached to scratch and claw only to see nothing was working to pull him off. The sobs drowned the screams and the screams mixed and pooled on the floor with the blood. "Let me go. LetmegoletmegoLETMEGO," he said his words mixing together and growing louder as they became an incoherent wail.

He should have known a determined self-ascertained hero would never listen.

Splendid only held him tighter and lifted him from his place crouched onto the floor and to shakey legs. He held him up by his uninjured wrists, pressing him to the wall. It was as if he did not take in the fact with every moment he pressed into the other he became covered in the remnants of what Flippy took to be his (in)sanity.

The words Splendid breathed was a whisper that's breath blew on his lips as he was stared down and forced to look in the other's eyes. "Listen to me Flippy. I'm not going to let you kill yourself over this. I'm not going to let yourself kill yourself at all, and don't think it's just because I'm sort of fucked-up version of a hero. I like you. I actually like you, and you're okay. You're gonna be a fucked-up sort of okay with me, alright? Agree with me please Flippy. Just agree," he said.

The words seemed to shut him up into compliance as he simply let himself go limp and fall, crumple, crash into the floor again. Splendid fell with him and held him until the raspy breaths Flippy breathed calmed down into a steady and slow rhythm. It was silent in the room, Splendid had shut and locked the door behind him to welcome them to a wonderful white noise of the party and chaos just outside. He was sure Flaky had told Handy or someone by now. He had to hurry.

"C'mon Flippy," he said softly as he lifted the zombie-like shell of what he knew held someone who was too sensitive, too cracking, too not-really-there. He let him slump on his shoulder as he brought him to the bathroom and repeated the process of locking and shutting the door. This time he set the heavy metal trashcan in front of it as an extra hold to what he knew was to come. He forced Flippy to sit down on the porcelain bathroom seat as he cleaned and dressed his wounds. Flippy's eyes were downcast as he worked, not bothering to look up form eithre shame or the weight that had already been on his shoulders for such a long time now.

"I did something bad again Splendid," Flippy said in a quiet whisper that was a shout in the already silent room. The words had a childish quality to them, the words a minor heartattack in Splendid's chest as he continued with wrapping the bandage around Flippy's scratched up arms. How long had he had this insatiable, irrationable crush on the one in front of him? It was the only way he could break his rules to always do the "right" thing (because in his lovefooled eyes anything to save Flippy was right), and make him into something he was just not sure of anymore. Splendid did not even know why he cared so much. Why he always came to stop him. Why he always was the one to watch him as he took him for a drive or a calm walk when Flaky had gotten frustrated with him again. Why he was the one who stuck beside him even after he went to the war and came back this torn, broken thing that just did not know who he was anymore.

Oh yes. Splendid cared more than he liked to admit, and his adolescent dream of being a superhero was only fulfilled when he stopped Flippy from becoming Flipqy even if just for a second. The moments when he saw the teenager he knew in highschool, and fell in love all over again. The sigh that passed his lips was involuntary as he forced a smile on his lips despite the fact Flippy was not even looking at him. "It's fine Flippy. I know you didn't mean to."

He never meant to. It was not his fault. Flippy could never do something like this, only Flipqy could. Flipqy would destroy and murder and leave carved up bodies in the alleyways for Splendid to find and hide, to clean up the mess, and the shattered remnants of Flippy, his other side left behind with the gore and corpses.

Silence grew between them again and a calm settled between them as Flippy pulled his knees to his chest. "Am I going to jail this time?" he whispered finally looking at Splendid even if it was not in the eye. He was staring at the blood on Splendid's jacket, and the way the chest beneath slowly raised slightly with each calm breath he took in.

"No," Splendid said firmly with that smile still forced on his lips. "It's going to fine," he promised, and with that he stood. "Stay here okay?" he said as he left Flippy behind curled up on the toilet seat.

It was time to clean up the mess, to carve the fingertips off the hand, tug the teeth from her bleeding and bloody lips and place them in a bag to flush down a toilet later. Then he waited for the door to open just as he predicted, Flaky hand-in-hand with Handy. The sandy brunet held a wrench that was of no assistance as Splendid dug one of the glass shards into his chest and another into Flaky's throat before she could scream out for help. He watched her choke on her own blood with cold eyes and indifference. The idea of how she betrayed Flippy filled his mind too much, and the hatred that burnt inside of him frightened him as just for that single moment he forgot who he was, bending down to breathe on her lips as she took one shakey breath before another. "You didn't deserve him," he said as her eyes lost the colour and became wide and staring.

It was time for the real challenge then. Splendid cut off all three of their hair and carved off the fingertips as he had did for Petunia. Then out went the teeth to go with the others. It would not take too long to flush all of them in a public restroom later. The hair would have to wait until he found a place that took it for charity. (Of course they did not have to know exactly where it came from.)

Now that the bodies were clearly unrecognisable and their identities now lost to a small pocketknife and a wrench, Splendid struggled somewhat with dragging one by one to the windowsill and pushing them over. How lucky was he that the party bridged the sea? The faint splash of it as one limp mass of flesh before another crashed down went unheard by Splendid who was now moving to use the baking soda and bleach stick he tended to carry around with him. He crawled along the floor, scrubbing furiously and picking up the broken glass to toss out the window. He did it all in a matter of minutes, managing to bleach the carpet in spots, the white contrasting from the red and beige checkers.

Splendid stood up and sighed, wiping his brow a bit before digging a light from his pocket. He kicked the bleach stick over to the wall near a socket. He shrugged off his jacket and bundled them with the bedsheets on the floor. He had nearly forgotten about some of Flippy's bloodsoaked clothes tossed over his shoulder, but he remembed after long enough to add them to the bundle. He began to hum lightly, the tune to a song he no longer the name of, as he tugged out his trusty lighter and set fire to the bit of carpet in the corner. He watched the flames grow and then burst as they caught the bleach. He backed away as the heat began to reach his face. He retreated to the bathroom, giving a sheepish and bright smile to Flippy in a small attempt to reassure Flippy everything was alright.

Smoke now was filling the room he left behind, and Splendid could feel the heat from his place near the bathroom door. He walked over quickly and lifted Flippy up to stand from his upright foetal position. The smoke was beginning to seep beneath the door, and he knew if they did not leave soon, they would burn along with the clothes and the bleach and the bits of evidence they had left behind. "C'mon," he murmured into Flippy's ear to try and motivate him to move faster and out the window. The ledge greeted them with cool summer winds and the shouts from partygoers below. They must have seen the wisps of fire inside. "Don't look down," he commanded in a breath that seemed like a shout from their place towering above bushes and scrambling people below.

Then they fell.

They went tumbling through the air and to the ground, Flippy's fingers dug deeply into the fabric of Splendid's Superman t-shirt. His eyes were tightly closed as he tried to imagine that he was falling down onto a trampoline or something not as threatening as the not-too-soft bushes below. The foolish and imagitive thoughts made him not want to scream as much. He thought he was falling forever, rather than the few minutes it took for them to go from the ledge to the tall and large bushes that enveloped and scratched any bare skin.

Flippy stumbled up, grappling for Splendid's hand. He refused to open his eyes even when they were running through the crowd that faded with each passing moment that they ran farther and farther from what he could only blame himself for. The panic and the screams that went from whispers to white noise to nothing, drowning in the sound of a roaring engine and muttered vulgarities spilling from Splendid's lips. Flippy had not even noticed they had climbed into the car.

For a few minutes, it was an uneasy silence filled with both of their ragged breaths from the exertion of running. It took several minutes that turnt into hours for both of them to calm down. Splendid's fingers were digging into the steering wheel when Flippy finally managed to find the confidence to open his eyes.

Splendid was staring at the road intently. A staring that seemed to place everything in the nothing of the neverending horizon in front of them. Flippy pulled his eyes away for a second only to bring them back again. He wondered why Splendid was always there. Why did Splendid always want to be there for him, to be "okay" with him? Why did Splendid care about him so much? The numerous questions that played over and over again in his mind as he continued to stare.

A wandering hand reached over and placed itself on Splendid's knee. Flippy was not too sure why he was doing it, just that he felt a need that he should. Still, whatever he had did it for, it calmed Splendid down at least a little. His face relaxed, a small sigh escaping past his lips before he turnt and let out that same smile he always gave Flippy or anyone. Flippy just seemed to be the only one who never quite believed the happiness it emitted. Whenever he rarely smiled back, he felt like he was sharing a secret rather than a joy. A secret both of them would never really understand or that they really cared to.

Flippy left his hand down as he rested his head on the cushion of the seat. He tilted his head and to the window to stare at the stars and the trees that whirred past them in the windowglass. The easy movement of the car eased him slowly into sleep. Their breathing and the silence his only lullaby as he closed his eyes. A murmured thank you left his lips, hardly noticeable in the calm, dead silence. The thank you meant more than everything and whispered the rest of the statement he left unsaid.

_("Thank you..._

_... for not leaving me.")_


End file.
